There are a lot of things I look forward to in 2011, but nothing more than my meetup with my two closest friends I’ve never seen (in person).

I know for many, if not most, people, it’s unusual to say that someone’s among your “closest friends” if you’ve never met in person, but this is actually pretty standard for me. I am an internet/social networking geek going way back. In the late-80s/early-90s, I had a little system called a “U.S. Videotel.” It only existed in Houston and Dallas, but was basically one of the earliest chatroom systems around. Anyone who had a U.S. Videotel terminal (and in later years, a computer disk) could connect. There was an early form of e-mail, chatrooms, graffiti boards, you name it. Heck, I even won front row NKOTB tickets once for chatting online. Back in the day before anyone had even heard of internet dating and chatrooms, I fixed up my mom – who was afraid of meeting people online – with a NASA engineer with a “Who wants to date my cute mom?” graffiti post. The relationship didn’t last, but because of their one date, my mom and I were among the first non-NASA employees to try Virtual Reality. In high school, I had a group of friends I’d met in the Yak chatrooms on Videotel. Some of my friends were in Dallas, some were in Houston. After months of hanging out online, we did a meetup at the Galleria mall. That meetup became an every-other-week thing. I still have a picture of Jessica, Kevin, Rachel and I hanging out in front of the ice skating rink. Good times. And my first friends met online.

I also did online dating before there was an internet. In fact, later in life, I even dated a guy who was one of the pioneers of internet dating – a friend of mine for over a decade who revolutionized the BBS dating system only to be part of the group to first launch their site on the WWW. That same dating site was really my first social network. Instead of just meeting people to date, I made friends – lots of friends. There was a large group of us that went out nearly every week when I was in college. In fact, one of those friends recently posted on Facebook a picture of me at a New Years Eve party 15 years ago – pictures of our whole Matchmaker crew, in fact. All of this happened back in the days of dial-up. Yes, the internet and I go way back, and I can thank her for me meeting Pop Culture Dad [thanks, Match.com!].

Given my long history of online relationships, it is not unusual that at the beginning of my pregnancy, I found myself in pregnancy forums. At the suggestion of a friend, I tried iVillage briefly. It didn’t really work out for me. Soon, however, I found my home on What to Expect.com. And it was there that I met Kat and Brittney – my two closest friends I’ve never met. Heck, two of my closest friends, period.

We were all due at various times in December 2008 [even though two of us ended up giving birth in November]. We all started off active on the forums, and then Brittney sort of disappeared from them. Kat and I remained active on the boards (according to our husbands, maybe too active at times), and forged a friendship. She eventually became the Den Mother of our expecting board and a featured blogger, and somehow talked me into doing both too. It was through the featured blogger program that we reconnected with Brittney. Even though there was no “office,” Kat and Brittney were my coworkers. Most importantly, though, they were my friends. Kat and I were already frequent e-mail chatters, and eventually we roped Brittney in too. Our friendship consists at times of more than 100 e-mails a day – and it’s at the point where we apologize for having real lives and not getting to e-mails sooner.

We have “celebrated” kids’ births and birthdays together, as well as our own birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. We have helped each other through trying times and cheered each other on during triumphs. We have watched our bellies grow together and watched our children grow from itty bitty babies to sassy toddlers. We have shared every major and minor event in our lives (past, present, and plans for the future) together. We have talked politics, religion, music, television, movies – you name it. And sometimes we’re stupid and silly just for the sake of it all. We may have never met in person, but we are a strong set of gal pals.

Really, it’s geography’s fault that we’ve never met. Navigating between Massachusetts, Texas and Arizona isn’t exactly easy – particularly with six adults and five children among us. Last year on New Years Day, my one and only one resolution was that I would finally meet Kat and Brittney in person. They each made reciprocal resolutions. It’s been a really busy year for all of us (particularly with Brittany being pregnant and giving birth to the gorgeous Isla in July), so the meetup never materialized. However, in September, we decided that if we couldn’t complete the meetup by year-end, we would at least book it… And we have!

In four months, I will “meet” my good friends, their hubbies, and their children. Considering our husbands and kids already know more about each other than people we see fairly often, I imagine the meetup will feel more like a family reunion. My daughter already refers to them as aunts and their children as cousins, so I really do feel like I will be seeing family.

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I knew it was time for Pop Culture Toddler to have her first play kitchen set, so I added the American Plastic Toys Homestyle Kitchen to my daughter's Amazon.com wish list. My mother in law purchased it and had it delivered to her home, so Pop Culture Dad and I could put it together on Christmas Eve.

I knew the assembly would be a long and difficult process. I had read all the reviews on Amazon. I had expected this and was prepared for it. What Pop Culture Dad and I were not prepared for was discovering - after spending 30 minutes unhooking barely even one-third of the pieces to assemble - that NONE of the 64 screws required for assembly were included in the packaging. They were supposed to be included, but they were not there. What. The. Eff??

I'm so disappointed. We're all disappointed.

After Googling "American Plastic Toys Homestyle Kitchen screws" I discovered that the Pop Culture family isn't the only one to be screwed out of screws. Apparently, this is a recurring problem. Yes, I realize that the company (CSN Stores) will send the screws after we call them and tell them; but it's 9 p.m. On Christmas Eve, tomorrow is Christmas, and then it's Sunday. There will be almost three days before we could even speak to a live person, and even then, from what I've read, it'll be a few days to weeks before they get the screws to us. Unacceptable.

And it still begs the question: Tomorrow is Christmas. What, praytell, are we supposed to do, since Nana and Papa's gift cannot be given??? [And, no, we will not still give her the box and entice her with a picture of a kitchen she cannot have].

It's not fair that this stupid company couldn't fix their known production problem, particularly toys that they know are shipping out for Christmas. They've stolen my in-laws' gift from them and denied my daughter what was perhaps going to be her best present this year. For that, there is nothing customer service can or would do to cure the problem.

Can you tell I'm majorly pissed??

Hmm... That was a bit longer than I thought it would be...

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Weekend to those who don't! Hope you're all having a better night than me. :)

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I wish that the networks would actually put real programming on Fridays and Saturdays, rather than re-runs, Cops, random movies, and whatever other undesirables they have sitting in their storage room. I remember when I was growing up and ABC had a string of back-to-back family shows that ran throughout primetime on Friday nights. Anyone remember Step by Step, Full House, Family Matters and Boy Meets World? Growing up, I couldn't wait for Friday night programming to roll around. Now I couldn't even tell you what comes on Friday nights, and at the rate things are going, my daughter will grow up thinking Friday nights are now always, "What did we get from Netflix this week?" nights.

Like the gang at TV Guide, I would like to see Community's Troy and Glee's Brittany have a conversation. Heck, I just want more Brittany. And Puck. When the heck is Mark Salling coming back to Glee? Make it happen, Ryan Murphy, and make it happen fast. More Puck solos. More Brittany dancing. Less Quinn and Finn singing. And please oh please more Warblers!!

I also wish for more Justin Timberlake on SNL. How about while we're at it, make The Miley Cyrus Show an every other week deal, kill the Target sketch once and for all, make The Weekend Update segment longer, (as much as I love Kristen Wiig) kill the deformed baby-lady skits and cut Tilly back to once a season, let Andy Samberg/Lonely Island do more digital shorts -- even better when you get classics like this, this, and this. And can you somehow coax Tina Fey, Amy Pohler and Maya Rudolph into making trick appearances more often? The shows are just so much funnier when they're on.

Speaking of... Can we get Maya Rudolph a show already?

As much as I like Dexter, given that Deb and Dexter are probably going to want to kill each other next year (in real life, anyway) and that I won't be able to look at Michael C. Hall without wanting to punch him in the face, let's just kill the show. Take a page from Seinfeld and quit while you're ahead. Honestly, this past season was a little lackluster. Or maybe it's just because Eli Stone (sorry, Johnny Miller, whatever) can't hold a candle to John Lithgow.

PLEASE stop killing babies and itty bitty children on Private Practice. I get that Addison Montgomery is supposed to be a premier prenatal specialist and Cooper is a pediatrician, but my poor heart can't take it anymore. Sure, you can keep some tragic storyline involveing a child or baby every now and then, but can you please stop making this mother cry every. single. week?

I wish for the Psych season to be longer. Much longer.

Can we meet the Mother already? Honestly, Ted Mosby really isn't even most people's favorite part of the show, and I think it's been well established that most people don't care How He Met His Kids' Mother, we just want Ted to do it already. Enough with the teasing and guest starlets who could or could not be the mother. Just let Ted meet the lady and get on with their courtship story told in the backdrop of all of his other friends' lives, which are way more interesting. And, please, let Barney and Robin get back together and let it stick this time.

BIg Bang Theory is perfect. I don't wish for a thing except many more seasons to come.

Please kill Two and a Half Men so that half-a-man can go to rehab already. What? The half-man is supposed to be the kid? Are you sure about that...?

All I want for Yule this year are more sitcoms that are actually funny. Can we take Modern Family and multiply it by a hundred? Let's bring back smart comedies like Arrested Development and Better Off Ted. I don't care that stupid people like stupid humor. Let them watch VH1 reality tv shows. Which brings me to...

I'll be the first to admit, I love good trash reality TV. But there are way too many shows on these days. First, let's confine the reality shows to some niche channels, and let the four major networks vow to limit their reality programming to one day a week. Let the cable channels (like MTV, VH1, E! and Bravo) corner the market, because, let's face it, they do reality better than anyone else. But, word to the wise, Bravo -- enough with the Housewives. I'll admit it, Beverly Hills is now a guilty and welcome pleasure (especially seeing how bat-$h!t crazy Camille Grammer is), but did we really need D.C.? That was one of the worst and most pointless seasons of television I have yet to witness, and this is coming from someone who actually watched a couple of episodes of Chad Ochocinco's dating show! Shame on you, Andy Cohen, for giving the Salahis more motivation to sneak their way into political events and attempting to (nay, succeeding in) breaching national security. These people should be in jail already!

Stop putting good shows like Parks and Recreation on as mid-season replacements for shows that you know are going to fail.

Let's have more people of color on more shows and as more leads. Reality shows do not count!! Undercovers was a good show -- better than half the shows that got picked up for full seasons -- and was actually pretty race neutral if half the idiots out there who felt like one yahoo whose letter was actually printed by TV Guide (who said he couldn't "bother to care" about the lead actors, because he'd never heard of them -- never mind all of the other shows with white leads no one's heard of) had actually bothered towatch the show. It didn't deserve to be cancelled so soon. And let's not pretend that now that Outsourced (an arguably racist show depending on who you ask) is on the air, there's no longer a need for Indian actors on American television. What about Hispanics? Nearly or more than half the population in practically every major city, but their presence on network television is virtually nil? Does that even seem right or fair? And while we're at it, let's have more openly gay characters on television and more disabled characters on television. We can't sequester everyone to Glee. Basically, I would like to turn on the television and have its demographics look somewhat close to real life. Is that too much to ask?

Speaking of diversity, geez, can we get a non-white Bachelor? As much as I love Brad Womack coming back, let's go for some fresh meat and a little color. I'm tired of recycling people who got dumped in previous seasons (if Jake Pavalka comes back, I swear I'm hunting Mike Fleiss down). And I'm tired of it being all white guys who, you know, even if they do pick one token black, Hispanic or Asian (and you know it's always one, not even one of each) gal, she's not staying past the second round. Black guy with 25 potential dates who are not necessarily all black women make you nervous? Fine, get a blue-eyed Hispanic guy. Surely Allie and Roberto have broken up by now. Isn't he available? [Okay, I guess that doesn't fit into my "fresh blood" wish, but I would just like to look at Roberto again...]

And my final wish (for now) is that Dancing wtih the Stars actually make their slate of stars actual stars. I mean, Jake Pavelka, some chick from The Hills whose name I can't be bothered to know, The Situation and Bristol Palin? Seriously?!

So to all the god(s) and goddesses of the various religions and holidays, this is my TV prayer to you. Please make these things happen. And if you can't, I'll settle for more room on my DVR. With us keeping 25 episodes of Sesame Street, there's hardly any room for Mommy and Daddy's shows.

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I never thought I would be inspired to write by any Real Housewives franchise other than those kooks in New Jersey; but lying here in the middle of the night avoiding sleep by watching trash TV, I'll be darned if those Beverly Hills gals didn't prove me wrong.

On episode 7 ("My Mansion is Bigger Than Your Mansion"), Kim [you know, the non-wife Housewife whose two claims to fame are starring in Escape from Witch Mountain 40 or so years ago and being the aunt of Paris and Nicky Hilton] takes her daughter to the doctor. Her ex-husband had, against her wishes, bought her daughter a new puppy. Soon after getting her cuddly new gift, the poor girl started waking up with her eyes swollen shut and her arms covered in rashes. The doctor confirmed Kim's suspicions that the culprit was an allergic reaction to the dog. They had to get rid of the dog and fast. Kim was nervous about getting rid of the puppy, because her daughter had become extremely attached to him.

Boy, did this all sound familiar.

My daughter has been suffering from eczema and seborrhea since she was a month or so old. We have been following a regimen prescribed by her pediatrician, including a prescribed steroid cream and nightly doses of Benadryl. Despite all of this, lately she seemed to be getting worse.

After weeks of watching her mutilate herself to get to the rashes, Pop Culture Dad and I decided to see a specialist. The first time we met with Dr. B, the allergist recommended by Pop Culture Toddler's pediatrician, he couldn't even run the allergy tests. Her skin was so rashed up that he said not only would they not be able to read the results, but she would just be more miserable, and he was not going to put her through that. Dr. B gave us a long list of things to do to help PCT's skin, including three new medications. He told us if we did even half of what he recommended, we would see improvement within four days.

We did everything he recommended, and PCT's skin was better in three days. After a couple of weeks on Dr. B's plan, we went back in for the allergy testing. Because PCT was barely two years old at the time, Dr. B decided not to run all of the skin tests -- just the 16 most common allergens. Within minutes, four of the test samples lit up.

Numbers A7 and A9, the worst of the two, were cats and dogs, respectively. F4 and F6 were eggs (whites and yolks). A lesser allergen was F3, cow's milk -- to which PCT was highly allergic until just a few months ago. The diagnosis was pretty clear: get rid of our dog and cat, and my daughter's quality of life would greatly improve.

As several people who've known me for decades pointed out when I made my frantic Facebook post looking for someone to adopt our pets, I've almost never been without a pet. I got my first dog at age 6 and had her through college. In addition to my beloved terrier, I've had several cats, other dogs, fish, birds and guinea pigs throughout my life -- that's not even including our animals on the ranch.

Through unplanned circumstances, PCD and I had finally narrowed our number of pets down to two -- the English Mastiff he's had for 11 years (four jointly with me), and the cat I've had for seven.

We weren't entirely surprised by the allergies, since both PCD and I are allergic to cats and dogs [however, we have respiratory reactions, which we can easily fix with OTC medication]. I was still somewhat surprised, though, given the number of things I had read that said children who grow up with pets tend to have less allergies to them. Leave it to us to be the exception to the rule...

Emotionally, the diagnosis was hard. Pop Culture Toddler is beyond attached to these animals. We are attached to these animals. They were our children before we had a child.

However...

Here is where Pop Culture Dad and I differ from Kim's ex-husband, Russell. When Kim told Russell about their daughter's allergic reaction, he made all kinds of excuses ranging from "Well she's not coughing right now" to "How can you be sure it's the puppy?", all because he didn't want to be the one to take the puppy away and find it a new home. PCD and I, on the other hand, cried about it, and then immediately started making preparations to find new homes for our pets. See, as hard as it is to lose a pet, it was a million times harder watching our daughter suffer. And in the contest between her comfort and our pets staying here, there was no contest.

That all being said, finding homes for older pets, particularly when everyone you know already has at least two, is easier said than done. It took us nearly a month to find a home for our cat, which is actually pretty funny when you consider she is now living with my mother.

The dog has been trickier. It's a pretty hard sell to convince someone to take in an 11-year old, 145-pound dog, who is the size of a small pony, and suffers from arthritis and various other joint and muscle problems. If we took her to a shelter, she would most certainly be put down. Even though we know we may have to put her down soon [particularly if you listen to the evil vet at Banfield who told my husband various statements to the effect that "she should not have lived this long" and "let me be clear, we will not prorate the annual wellness plan if she dies"], we don't want to expedite that process unnecessarily. Since our dog barely moves and will probably not be around much longer, the solution for now is to basically quarantine her from Pop Culture Toddler.

PCT misses our cat dearly. She often asks "Where's Maxie?", and when we tell her that Maxie is with Nonna, she insists we call my mother. Tonight she demanded of my mom that "Maxie come home!". One day, when she's not having a flare up, we may take her to visit Maxie; but we're not at that point yet.

I'm sad about losing my pet of seven years, but it had to be done. No matter how much we love our fur babies, our bio babies come first. Maybe by the next episode, stupid Russell will have learned that.

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The weather has finally dropped and stayed low enough for me to get in a gumbo-making mood -- not that I really need an excuse, but Pop Culture Dad usually makes jokes when I make gumbo, and it's 90 degrees outside. I make a pretty good gumbo. really good, actually. Since I'm also in a writing mood today, I thought I'd share some of my gumbo secrets. Unfortunately, I'll probably never share my gumbo recipe. My best friend knows, and while she hasn't been exactly sworn to secrecy, she's not telling. Pop Culture Dad has seen and even helped me make it, but even while eating it, he probably couldn't tell you a single ingredient in it. So right now, this secret recipe stays closely held. I will however share several pointers that should help you make an excellent gumbo no matter whose recipe you're using.

The Roux

As any great gumbo cook will tell you, the roux is the heart of the gumbo. Mess up here, and your gumbo is a goner no matter what else you do. The good news is, this is the easiest and cheapest step to fix. If you over- or under-cook your roux, throw it out and start over. If you mess it up again, chuck it all and start over again. Trust me – never rest on a bad roux.

I’ve read several recipes that call for equal parts oil and flour in the roux. Unless you like really greasy gumbo, don’t ever do this. Ever. There should always be more flour than oil.

Some recipes call for butter and others for oil or shortening. My personal preference is that butter-based roux [not “rouxes"; that’s not a word. Even though I’ve probably said it before, that is not a word. Let me say it again in case you missed it, “rouxes” is not a word.] be used for étouffés,while oil-based roux should be used for gumbo. Save the shortening for your pies and cookies. And olive oil? Yeah, no. Not a good taste. Never use an oil with an overpowering taste as part of your roux.

And while the idea of seafood stock as part of your roux base sounds intriguing, skip it. Water works just fine.
So, given that your basic good roux is just oil, flour and water, tell me again why you would ever keep a bad roux? Say it with me: “A bad roux just won’t do. Throw that sucker out.”

The Meats

This is purely a matter of personal preference. I tend to prefer a moderate amount of chicken, a minimal amount of sausage, and a lot of seafood. Pop Culture Dad prefers a moderate amount of seafood, a minimal amount of chicken, and a lot of sausage. Pop Culture Toddler just wants the rice. I usually try to make everyone happy. Use what makes you happy.

I will say, however, that one mistake I’ve seen a lot is people trying to get too “fancy” with their gumbos. When you try too hard, the result is usually more of a stew and not a gumbo. Gumbo means something, and crazy ingredients just don’t fit that meaning. When I lived in New York, I once went to a restaurant that claimed to have excellent seafood gumbo. Among the ingredients were snapper, flounder and Mahi Mahi. Roux or no, that is not a gumbo. That’s a fish soup. [Side note: I tried it anyway. It was disgusting.] I had a professor in law school that had us all over for “venison gumbo.” It was a very delicious venison stew; but as he darn-well knew when he served it, it was not a gumbo. I feel as strongly about this as I do people who use cream of chicken or cream of mushroom in a dish they claim is an étoufée. It is not, and stop telling that lie.

On the flip side, don’t go too pedestrian with your ingredients. My mom and some of her sisters use dried shrimp. I understand that growing up that’s all they could afford, but now that they can buy better, don’t go there. Gross gross gross.

Another note learned from my mom’s misadventures in cooking: do not, I repeat do NOT, cook your meat or vegetables before adding them to the roux. The mixture of the juices when everything cooks together is what makes a gumbo so good. If you precook your meat or veggies, you lose or alter the juices. Just don’t. The thing takes two hours to cook. If you don’t have the time to simmer your gumbo properly so that all of the meats will cook, then don’t bother making it that day at all.

And if you’ve ever cooked, you should know that seafood cooks more quickly than anything. If you’re adding shrimp or crab, do not add them until five to ten minutes before the end.

The Veggies

Yes, yes, yes. I know Emeril says that all Créole cooking requires the Holy Trinity of celery, onion and bell pepper. As a Créole rather than some guy from Jersey who cooks (really good) Créole food, I’m gonna say that’s bunk. Yes, my Holy Trinity appears in many things (like my étoufées or my cornbread dressing), but you will never find a piece of celery in my gumbo. I just don’t like it. Again, it’s a personal choice. If you like it, go for it. But I never will.

The veggies are usually the first thing I add, and they get a little bit of alone time with the roux before the seasoning and the meat are added. The only exception to this is okra. If you choose to add okra, that should only go in before the seafood (at the end). My okra usually only cooks 15 – 20 minutes. Otherwise, the result is often slimy okra. {{shudder}}

The Rice

Totally a personal choice, but I think you can’t go wrong with Uncle Ben’s Converted Rice. Of course, I also think this rice is so good that with a little butter, I’d eat a bowl of just that. So maybe I’m a little biased.
=-=-=-=-=

Hope these tips serve you well. All this gumbo talk has made me hungry, so I’m going to go tend to mine.

While cooking on the stove. Probably a bit much for a family of three. We could eat for a week off this thing [if only Pop Culture Dad ate leftovers].

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When I was nine years old, shortly before Christmas, my mom took me to Palais Royal. This wasn’t an unusual or special event; this was just a normal shopping trip. On display were a bunch of teddy bears called the P.R. Bear. They were white and cuddly and wearing green and red winter accessories. I had to have one. So my mom bought one for me. I thought P.R. was a stupid name for a bear, so I named him P.J.

Unlike many childhood toys that have come and gone, P.J. (sans clothes) stayed throughout elementary, middle and high school. P.J. went to college with me. Eventually he went to law school with me. My last year of law school, P.J. even had a best friend. My roommate had a number of bears of his own, and P.J.’s “best friend” was my roommate’s teddy bear. I actually have a picture on my wall of my roommate, P.J., Mr. Giggles a*k*a Giggie, and me. And, yes, throughout all these years, I slept with P.J. cuddled up to me.

As you can imagine a bear who’s been around – and used – for more than 20 years would be, P.J.’s had a little wear and tear. At some point, P.J. ended up on the top shelf of one of our rarely used closets. One day I went into that closet to find winter clothes, and my daughter discovered P.J. She had to have him. So I let her hold him.

My husband wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea. As I mentioned, P.J. has had some wear and tear. Instead of white, he was grey. And not a good grey either. Pop Culture Dad kept imploring me to throw him away, but I just refused, because I’ve had this bear for 24 years. He didn’t have much to worry about, Pop Culture Toddler quickly forgot about P.J. like she does most toys, and P.J. went back in the closet.

For some reason, this weekend I decided it was finally time for P.J. to have a bath. I was washing my daughter’s current lovey, Elmo, anyway, so it seemed like a good idea. I just prayed that Elmo didn’t turn P.J. pink. My husband was the one who took the laundry out of the dryer this weekend, so I forgot about P.J. (and everything else in the laundry) altogether. Until Tuesday night…

Pop Culture Toddler was running through the hallway and noticed the laundry basket [don’t judge!]. All of the sudden, I hear a squeal, “P.J.!!!!!!!!!!!”. I honestly didn’t know she still knew his name. Not only did she remember P.J.’s name, she remembered him. PCT pointed at P.J. and said “Mommy’s bear.” Then she picked him up, squeezed him, and said her favorite word these days, “Mine.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up my bear, even though it’s been a few years (okay, couple) since he’s been my sleeping companion. But sometimes being a mommy means you have to make the hard choices, so I let PCT keep him.

Last night, she insisted that P.J. sit with us for her bedtime story, an honor previously bestowed on Abby and Elmo. This morning, I found Abby and Elmo on the floor next to the bed, while P.J. slept soundly next to my baby girl. Even then, I thought it would be a fad. Tonight, I asked PCT if she wanted to grab Abby and Elmo for a bedtime story, and she grabbed P.J. instead. She clung to him even after she fell asleep.

Maybe Pop Culture Toddler will be bored with P.J. a week from now. Or maybe she’ll follow my lead and take him off to college with her. Only time will tell. I will say, though, that I never thought you could consider a single teddy bear a family tradition, but now I’m wondering…

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One of my friends called me this evening for an urgent mommy conference. She's having nanny issues and wanted to get my opinion. She also wants the opinions of the mommysphere, so if anyone has thoughts, please weigh in (and ASAP).

Here's the deal:

My friend came home early unannounced. When she got home, her nanny was in the bathroom at the front of her house. One of her twins was in my friend's bedroom... At the back of the house... Sleeping in her car seat... With the door closed. When my friend asked why her daughter was strapped in her car seat, the nanny's response was that the air conditioner repairman had to get into her daughter's bedroom upstairs. By my friend's estimation (though we're not sure), the repairman would have left an hour prior.

To cap it all off nicely, my friend also found out the nanny's been in her bed when she's gone.

My friend isn't sure what to think or what to do. Maybe this was a one time, unusual thing. Maybe this is what happens often before she gets home. No one but the nanny (and the one-year old twins who can't tell her what goes on) knows for sure.

So what's a mom to do -- push all of the what-else-does-she-do-when-I'm-not-home thoughts out her head and go about business as usual? Enroll her twins in Montessori a few months earlier than she planned (their spot is already open)? Get a new nanny? And if she gets rid of this nanny, does she give her notice or inform her on Friday that she need not return Monday?

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As I mentioned in my pre-Halloween blog, we resumed our annual Samhain/Halloween dinner party this year [menu appears at the bottom of this post]. The second most requested recipe was my recipe for cornbread dressing. My pumpkin bread wins first prize for most requested. Since the holidays are coming up, I figured it's a perfect time to share the cornbread dressing recipe. Maybe with enough prodding, I'll share the pumpkin bread recipe, too.

Now, I'm not very proprietary about this recipe. For one, I co-opted it from one of my aunts quite some time ago and have only made a few minor adjustments, so it's not like it's this huge secret or even mine to own [not to mention, it's very close to a recipe I just found online]. For another, I'm not trying to publish a cookbook or otherwise make money off this recipe, so sharing it for free doesn't hurt me in any way [though, if you really like it, feel free to send me $10. J/K. Maybe....]. In any event, I'm so conceited about my cooking that I'm sure no one will make it as well as I do. All that being said, I'm not going to say what kind of seasoning I use. Anyone who knows me can figure it out in a millisecond, because, well, I put it in everything. Create your own style. I'm also not going to say how much seasoning I use because, well, I don't know. I just keep mixing and tasting until it seems right.

I'm also totally guessing on the cream of chicken and chicken broth, because, again, I never measure. I do know, however, how much I buy at the store. So that's what I'm giving you.

Now with all of that, on to the recipe!

Pop Culture Mom's "Famous Cornbread Dressing and Giblet Gravy

(in action at the party, half gone)

Serving Size: I dunno. Usually the party has 20 or so people and sometimes we have some left over, sometimes we don't. This year I had maybe a spoonfull left over. Feel free to cut the recipe by 1/3 for smaller groups.

2. While the eggs are boiling, use the cornbread mix, three eggs/Egg Beaters and milk to make the cornbread according to the instructions on the Jiffy box.

3. Once the cornbread is done, transfer it to a large mixing bowl and crumble it.

4. Chop up two of the hard boiled eggs and add them to the mixing bowl. Then add the onion, celery, green pepper, 3 cans of cream of chicken and 2-1/2 cups of chicken broth. Stir everything until well mixed. Add the chicken seasoning and other seasonings to taste.

5. Pour the mixture into a 9x13 pan and bake at 350ºF until the top is golden brown (usually 45 minutes for this size; around 20-25 minutes if only making a third of this recipe).

6. FOR THE GRAVY: Slice the remaining hard-boiled egg (including yolk) into slivers. Put the egg slices with the remaining chicken broth and cream of chicken [and chicken giblet/neck bone, if desired] into a medium-sized sauce pan. Add black pepper and any other desired seasonings to taste. Simmer for five to ten minutes, stirring repeatedly (don't let it boil over). If you added the chicken parts, remove them before serving.

***

Note: None of the brands I recommend are paying me for these endorsements [though, if anyone's looking, CALL ME. Wink]. These are just the brands I always use; and as a creature of habit, I stick with what I know. I know exactly what the taste is using my brands of choice. I make no guarantees for the taste using other brands. Feel free to experiment, and if you find something that works well, let me know!

BTW, here's the menu for this year's party. Minus one major omission in the description of the salad [how the heck could I forget to mention the star of the salad -- bacon!?], this is exactly what we had. I'm getting hungry all over again, just thinking about it.

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I really hate being up at dawn. Even worse than being up at dawn? Being up at dawn on vacation.

Tonight/this morning is the second time this week (vacation week) that Pop Culture Toddler decided to wake up at 4 a.m. The last time was two nights ago. She was up at 4:30 a.m. and didn't go back to sleep until a little after 6. Today seems to be following a similar pattern, only it was slightly before 4 when she woke up. And we have to leave at 10 to catch our plane. I don't see this going well.

PCT is easy enough to get to bed the first time. Even on vacation, she's done pretty well with out modified version of her routine and fallen asleep rather easily. It's the falling back asleep that's the problem.

First is the unreasonable list of demands that changes every time a wish is fulfilled. "Mommy, tuck you in" is usually followed by "No, Mommy! No covers!!". "Mommy, lay down!", then "Mommy, stand up!". "Water, please" is chased by either "Water in [cup that is nowhere near the room and likely dirty]!!" or "No water! No water, Mommy! No!". "Abby, Elmo, please" comes right before "No Abby! No Elmo!" followed by Abby and Elmo being chucked across the room. Then come the various requests to blow her nose (only with a Boogie Wipe) and lather her with Aquaphor -- in very specific places, and usually the same spot over and over, despite the half-inch layer that is already present.

And these demands aren't just said loudly, they're usually screamed - sometimes screamed and cried - and always on an endless loop with one another. Nothing makes her happy. Nothing.

Since we're on vaca in an ocean-front condo, I have substituted the ocean white noise machine to which she always goes to sleep with the sound of the actual ocean. The problem with that tonight is that she likes to listen on the patio, and a cold front came through yesterday. It's 40 degrees and windy. And it's sort of hard to bundle up when my requests have been "Mommy stand up" and "No covers! No blanket!". Seriously?! Look, kid, you're gonna have to meet me halfway.

It's a little after 5 now, and I've finally convinced her to (1) let me close the patio door, (2) allow me a blanket, and to sit down on a chair (3) put her head on my shoulder and close her eyes, and (4) stop screaming [I'm sure the octogenarians downstairs appreciate that last one]. This is real progress! If I can just manage to lull her into sleep within the next half hour, I may actually get some rest in before we're off to Palm Beach International. I won't hold my breath, though.

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The Pop Culture Family is currently on vacation in Florida, visiting my in-laws. Now that we’re almost done with Day Three of our trip, a few things occur to me…

When you’re going out of town for almost a week, a trial-sized tube of toothpaste just isn’t going to cut it.

No matter how nice the resort, always bring your own soap – particularly when two out of three family members are allergic to pretty much everything.

When you have a toddler who has some good potty days and some bad ones, never underestimate the loveliness and convenience of a hotel room that comes with its own washer and dryer. That’s two vacas in the last three weeks where we have been so blessed. Thank you vacation gods!

Wherever you accidentally fail to put sunscreen will be the one area that gets the most sun (ask Pop Culture Toddler and Pop Culture Dad about that one…).

Never go on vacation with a full suitcase unless you plan on FedEx’ing things back home.

If the guy on the beach makes a “this wide” sign when jumping out of the water and the fish are going crazy, it means there’s a shark. Do not go in the water. I repeat, do not go in the water. [We were smart enough to recognize this; the ladies next to us, not so much].

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Halloween (or Samhain for us Pagans) is my absolute favorite holiday of the year. Of course, as a Wiccan, it is my most important holiday of the year, being the New Year and all; but it's also just fun. I love costumes, candy, desserts, decorating, the whole works. I've loved Halloween since I was a kid, and couldn't wait until I had kids of my own with whom to share the holiday.

Now, obviously, seeing as my daughter turns two in less than a month [OMG, how did that happen??], this isn't really her first Halloween/Samhain [pronounced, BTW, sow-een or sah-win, but never sam-hayn]. However, this is the first one that counts. Pop Culture Toddler didn't get to have a real Halloween last year, and unlike her first Yule and Christmas (at one month old), it had nothing to do with her age.

Every year before I got pregnant with PCT, I celebrated Samhain/Halloween in a big way. It started in 1997 when I got my first on-campus apartment. That was the first year of my Samhain dinner party. It started with four or five friends, just a bunch of us gals hanging out and eating a meal I prepared loosely based on the suggestion in Laurie Calbot's Celebrate the Earth: A Year of Holidays in the Pagan Tradition. This tradition carried through law school and after I moved back to Houston and started my job. The parties were all small, with my close friends, and the menu stayed pretty much the same, with little modifications here and there. The party has gotten bigger and bigger (as has the menu) over the years, and has practically become a legend in its own right.

Each of the nine years I have been a practicing attorney, I have taken off on Samhain for religious observance. I'm not just taking off Halloween to prep for a party and get costume-ready [though, certainly I do that, too]. I spend the day doing a spiritual and physical cleanse of my house and my person. I reflect on the year that has passed and the year that is to come. I communicate with my ancestors who have passed [most importantly, my paternal grandmother, with whom I've always shared a strong bond, despite her passing away when I was only 12 years old, and who I know -- I can feel -- is watching over me always]. And I cook like nobody's business. The year before I got pregnant was my Tenth Annual Samhain dinner party. There have only been two years where I did not follow my usual tradition, the last two years.

In 2008, I was very pregnant on Halloween -- officially due at the beginning of December (but not expected by my midwives to make it past November; I didn't). My good friends suggested that instead of me either (1) cancelling my party and being unhappy about it; or (2) trying to drag my extremely large belly around a kitchen, standing on my feet all day cooking for them, they combine my usual party with my baby shower. It was seriously the most awesome thing ever. I always thought a Halloween baby shower would be cool, and I got one. Of course, everything about it was different from what I did every year, but the spirit was still there -- having a great time and breaking bread with my friends and my immediate family.

Last year, however, was very different. My in-laws are snow birds who spend half the year living in Florida. Within the resort where they live, they also have a time-share condo that is available the first week of November every year. Now that we have Pop Culture Toddler, my husband and I get use of the time-share for that slot in November. When we first planned the trip, I didn't really think about the logistics of it all. I just threw PCT's and my costumes in the suitcase, along with perhaps five different Halloween-themed outfits for her, and called it a day. I knew I wouldn't be able to have my party, but it didn't really occur to me that she wouldn't get a real Halloween either.

Where we were located, there was no trick-or-treating. There weren't even really any Halloween decorations up. Add to the fact that it was 80 degrees, and it didn't even feel like we were anywhere close to Halloween. Halloween morning, we took PCT to the mall. Had I know there would be a photographer there, I would have brought her in-costume. But I didn't. So PCT now has professional Halloween pictures wearing a pair of too-big black shorts, a shirt that says "Got Candy?", jack-o-lantern socks, and a bib that says "Baby's First Halloween."

(This is obviously not the professional picture, but this is the outfit)

The mall was going to have trick-or-treating, but we never made it. It's sort of impossible to go trick-or-treating between 5 and 7 p.m. when you have dinner reservations at 6. So what's a poor Wiccan mom with a suitcase full of costumes to do? Bring Tinkerbelle to dinner.

Okay, so she was the only person in the restaurant wearing a costume. In fact, other than our family, there was only one other group in the entire restaurant. But she was so stinking cute how could I not put her in the costume? Besides, it traveled all the way from Texas!

All and all, Halloween was a complete bust last year. I was pretty depressed about it. Thankfully, the combination of ocean air, warm weather, relaxing, being out of the office, and consuming copious amounts of alcohol helped me get over it temporarily and enjoy my fabulous vacation [it really was fabulous other than Halloween]; but it always kills me that my baby's first Halloween was so very un-Halloween. I've told Pop Culture Dad in no uncertain terms that our annual Florida vacation will only occur after Halloween from now on.

This year, however, I plan to make up for it in spades.

I've been getting PCT geeked up for Halloween since the end of September. She's got an obscene amount of Halloween-themed DVDs that she's been watching every day, and she's even obsessed with a couple of them [I'm looking at you, Dora]. She insists on reading Trick or Treat, Dora! every night before bed. She's tried on her costume a few times, and she loves dressing up and twirling around. She goes around the house yelling, "Trick or Treat!" and pointing out the various pumpkins and spiders, claiming that they are all hers. She waves to our Pac-o-latern and three ghosts in the front yard. She talks to the scarecrows and is quick to tell anyone that "Nonna did it!" [my mother put the scarecrows up]. This little girl loves Halloween as much as her mommy does!

We're doing a family-themed Halloween. Luckily, Pop Culture Dad is just along for the ride, and let me do my own thing here. I love love love love Wicked (the musical; not the book). In fact, my birthday present this year was PCD taking me to see Wicked.... AGAIN. My dear husband was kind enough to consent to the Wicked theme. Because he was so lovely about it, I'm not going to force him to be the goat or anything. And, since I am (of course) going as Elphaba/The Wicked Witch, it only makes sense anyway that he go as Fieryo/The Scarecrow. PCT is going to be (of course) Galenda/Glenda the Good Witch [And, hey, I could see her being a tall, biracial version of Kristen Chenoweth in the future.... You should hear PCT sing!]. In fact, every time Dora asks what's her costume, she gives a cheesy grin and yells, "Good Witch!!".

The Samhain/Halloween dinner party (feast) really that has been on a two-year hiatus is now back in full swing and is happening tomorrow. The big difference, however, is that now it is "hosted" by Pop Culture Toddler. I didn't want to modify the structure of the party too much [yes! there will still be alcohol], because I still have dear friends who don't have young children, and I still want to celebrate the New Year with them; but I wanted to offer enough kid-friendliness so that my friends with children [it's been a baby-booming past couple of years, what can I say...] wouldn't feel uncomfortable bringing their kids. In the past, I've only been able to convince two people (both in the same year) to bring their kids with them. Of course, back then, most of my friends didn't have kids; but seeing as I didn't have them and neither did most other people, I think many thought their kids would be a burden or something. Shrug.

The party is earlier in the day so the kids can get to bed on time and the kid-less can go clubbing (or whatever it is people do other than watch tv at home like we do every weekend) without wrecking their party schedules. I've kept the same menu that evolved over 10 years of perfecting my party, but we've added some kid-friendly dishes that I know the kids will love [the recipes have already been tested on PCT], and I'm pretty sure the adults will, too. Gosh, I just hope they let the kids eat first! I've created some favor bags for the kids, with different toys and treats given depending on age group -- the ages of the kids attending range from four months to 10 years. We've set up a craft table for the kids, and we've got a few other surprises that I won't reveal just yet in case any partygoers are reading this before Saturday night. ;)

Sunday night, we will take PCT around our neighborhood for her first ever trick-or-treating. She's already been saying "Trick or Treat" for a month now, so she's ready. And we'll have already given her costume a run-through.

And only after we have thoroughly enjoyed our Halloween festivities will we then board the plane to chillax on the beach for a week. Sigh.... Rough life, ain't it? ♥

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Okay, I suppose this isn't really about parenting, except to the extent that I'm feeling like a protective mama over one of my favorite shows; but after reading what feels like the 12,000th criticism and being asked by a pal if I agree with one of the more scathing ones, I felt I should weigh-in.

I'm probably going to get lengthy here [what?? Me, long-winded? No way!], so for those of you who don't want to wallow through it all, here's my short answer: I loved it, every bleeping minute of it! I thought it was better than the much beloved Madonna episode, and in fact may be -- gasp -- one of the best episodes to date.

Anyone who knows me or has read this blog, my former WTE blog or any of my tweets knows I love Glee. You may be wondering (or not), though, if I'm just biased toward this episode because of some Britney love. Maybe. You be the judge.

Britney and I have a checkered past. When she emerged, I was 22 years old and in my second year or law school. Hated her voice, hated her look, hated her hype, hated everything about her. I was six years older and in grad school (compared to her high school), and I didn't appreciate the immaturity of all the Britney hype. And I certainly didn't appreciate my then-boyfriend (also 22) and our other buddies from school drooling over her. It was creepy, like on the verge of pedophilia. And she wasn't that cute (still isn't).

Oddly enough, I was Team Christina. Even though they are the same age, Christina had this maturity about her. Her voice was certainly a million times better. Heck, I still get chills when I hear her hit high notes. Also, this was way before Christina entered her skank phase, and she was sort of an underdog. Pre-plastic surgery, no grown men I knew were drooling over this particular former Mousekateer. I wasn't really buying the rest of the teen pop sensations of the late-90s/early-00s either. I had no love of N'Sync (ironic given how much I love JT now) or the Backstreet Boys. Don't get me wrong, I love pop. I just wasn't loving that particular sub-genre.

Enter the Law Revue and Cabaret show.

After the popularity of the Spring show's Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls numbers [the latter was written by my roommate and I. We both liked the Spice Girls, and they get a pass, seeing as they are our age], there was a call for more pop tart numbers. So, I begrudgingly downloaded one of my least favorite songs and proceeded to write a parody to the tune of "Hit Me Baby, One More Time." Somewhere between the weeks of dance rehearsals learning Brit's moves and singing the parody over and over, I actually started to like the song. Still hated Britney, though, and I was not about to jump on the bandwagon.

Fast forward a few years, and Britney became a trainwreck. Now I was intrigued. Honestly, I think I was more interested in the cleanup than I was the wreckage itself. You can't help but root for a mom to get things together for the sake of her kids.

To make an already long story short, I discovered "Toxic," and it became the gateway drug into what is almost Britney fandom. I now own her last few albums and a few earlier singles, but I'm not jaded or tone-deaf enough to attempt to argue that she's a good singer. Heck, I won't even say she's a good dancer (she does have good choreography, though).

So, yes, I am a Britney Spears fan(ish). Is that enough to make me biased about "Brittany/Britney"? I don't know. All I know is that was the best episode of Glee -- EVER. Here's my argument:

THE GOOD:

1. It's (More) Brittany, Bitch.
Brittany S. Pierce [did we ever know her last name before?? Brilliant!] is one of the best characters on television. I can't call her "underrated," because I think most people are starting to catch on. She delivers classic one-liners with such quietness and earnestness ["Did you know dolphins are really just gay sharks?... Yeah, it's true."]. And, oh, what lines! Just from that one episode, could you pick a favorite from these? I couldn't.

- (after admitting to rinsing her teeth with soda instead of brushing) "I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist."

- (at the dentist office) "This room looks like the one on that spaceship where I got probed."

- "Please don't pull all of my teeth. When I smile, I look like a baby... but with boobs."

- "I would just like to say that from now on, I demand to have every solo in glee club. When I had my teeth cleaned, I had the most amazing Britney Spears fantasy. I sang and danced better than her. Now I realize what a powerful woman that I am.... I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now. It's Brittany... bitch."

I can't believe this character almost didn't exist!! [Fun fact I learned from my friend... Brittney]

In addition to finally getting that Brittany fix that was so desperately needed, we finally got to see Heather Morris, the actress who plays Brittany S. Pierce, show off her amazing dance skills. Related to my fun fact above, Heather Morris was a former backup dancer for Beyoncé. She was brought in to teach the cast the "Single Ladies" dance. They liked her, so they created a character.

It is hard to watch the "Slave 4 U" number on "Brittany/Britney" without being absolutely blown away by Heather Morris. She is phenomenal! She's a million times better than the original Britney. And that body! I vote for more Brittany singing and dancing numbers!

2. John Stamos

Oh, Uncle Jesse... I hadn't even realized I had missed you until you popped back intro my life!

I've read several reviews saying that Stamos looks as good as he did on Full House. Are you kidding me? He looks better! For one, there's no mullet. But this man has just aged gracefully. Wowza! I have to agree with Santana that I have never seen a dentist that hot.

Beyond the eye candy that is John Stamos, I was just glad to see Emma Pillsbury moving on. Will Shue needs some time to get over his plethora of issues, and in the meantime she needs a better romantic prospect than the equivalent of another Ken Tenaka.

3. Moving out of the Auditorium

Even though I've read a lot of complaints about the dream sequences feeling inorganic, I loved it. I mean, was that really any more inorganic than randomly breaking into song, having a guitarist and pianist appear who know exactly what you want to sing, and your backup singers automatically knowing their harmonies and dance steps -- all without any practice? Of course not. In fact, a dream sequence is probably more realistic. I get that with musicals, you check reality at the door. That's part of the reason why I love them. But if you're going to willingly suspend reality for what takes place within the school, then you should be able to suspend it for the sake of a dream.

One of the reasons I enjoyed this detour into dreamland is that it allowed so much more creativity and sparkle than your traditional auditorium vocals. I mean, would that boa constrictor have had any proper place at McKinley High?

4. It's (the Real) Britney, Bitch

Another thing some critics have panned, which I absolutely adored was seeing the real Britney pop up for a few seconds in some of the fantasies.

Madonna and Lady Gaga take note: When a television show offers to do an entire episode devoted to you, the very least you could do is shoot a few promos for it. Britney not only did that, she made an appearance on the show and live tweeted about it. That is southern hospitality, ladies and gentlemen.

I thought her random appearances were cute. Who cares if it doesn't further her career (another complaint I read)? Kudos to you, Ms. Spears!

5. The Songs

Last, but certainly not least, I loved the songs. Sure, there were a couple different songs I would rather see performed, but overall, it was pretty solid. I only have one song complaint, which I'll detail below.

Generally, though, I have to say that minus the one blip, I think the song/character choices were perfect. I loved the recreation of the videos, and I couldn't wait to download all of the songs as soon as the episode was over. I even loved the one non-Britney song (Paramore's "Only Exception"), and I don't even like the original artist.

THE BAD

1. Missing Glee Club MembersUm... Where was Puck?? Where?? You cannot have a Puckless episode!

And the new guy who joined the club last week? They showed him in the locker room, but he was nowhere to be found during glee club practice.

And how did Quinn not utter a single line until that horrible scene with Finn at the end [more on that monstrosity later]?

Glaring omissions all around. 2. "Hit Me Baby, One More Time"Love the song (now). Love Lea Michelle. I was not, however, loving the two of these together. Sorry, it's just not her genre. I get that the whole point was supposed to be Rachel stepping out of her comfort zone, but did she really have to step into a zone that actually makes her vocals sound bad? I can think of other Britney songs Lea Michelle could have easily rocked while still getting the whole Rachel-wants-to-be-bad message across ("Boys," anyone?). This just wasn't the right song. Sorry.

3. The Britney Spears Sex RiotUsually, I love Sue Sylvester, but this whole thing was just weird and random.

THE UGLYThere was only one ugly of "Brittany/Britney," and that was the whole Rachel/Finn drama. I mean, seriously. The whole thing felt entirely forced. Rachel, who craves popularity more than anything and started her relationship while Finn was the star quarterback (and reveled in the status, as I recall) is now suddenly threatened by it? Hardly likely. And sending Finn's recent ex-gf, with whom he thought for months he was having a baby, to "test" him? Sorry, that's too clueless and cruel even for a gal who sent a rival to "an inactive" crack house in the prior episode. And there is no way Quinn would have ever willingly agreed to that. What's her motive?I get that there are studies that happy relationships kill shows [I don't agree with them, but whatever], but there is enough drama going on that Ryan Murphy and crew do not need to throw up character-inconsistent road blocks. I can easily think of fifteen different -- and consistent with the storyline -- ways that those two could fight/breakup. The first: Rachel is Rachel. End of story.
=-=-=Overall, the good of this episode outweighed the bad and the ugly. It was a great hour-long escape from reality and a welcome departure from the usual Glee format. Do I want to see more artist-devoted episodes? Not sure. I've enjoyed the three that have been done so far, but there's got to be a limit. While I would love a Timberlake-heavy episode -- assuming, of course it's done correctly -- could I really stomach, say, a Jonas Brothers or Miley Cyrus episode? Goodness no. I'd rather have my eyes gouged out. In any event, I don't think "Brittany/Britney" deserved all the flack it received. This was easily one of the better, if not the best, episodes. And when you look at the horrible "Grilled Cheesus" episode that followed it [Puck solo aside], it truly could have been worse.On another note, I want to thank those of you who patiently waited for this repost. Last week, a friend mentioned that she was anxiously waiting to read the defense of "Brittany/Britney," and my response was "Me, too." As most of you with young children have probably experienced, sometimes the only way to get in your "leisure time" (what blogging is for me) is to keep it confined to the palm of your hand. Most of my posts are written on my trusty smartphone, little bits here and there. So imagine my disappointment when my blogging app deleted all but the first three paragraphs of this original post. I've tried to recapture my instantaneous impressions of the episode the best I could [Would you believe the original post was even longer than this??]. I'll admit, though, that it was a little difficult doing so when I felt "defeated" by the whole loss of text. So, again, I thank you all for you patience while I got over myself. :)

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When I was in law school, it amazed me how many otherwise intelligent people had misconceptions about Texas. In fact, I remember reading Jim Parsons lamenting the same thing in EW after he won the Emmy [people who thought he grew up riding horses to school in Houston].

The first misconception about Texas is that every city is completely backwards (thanks, GWB), rural (thanks, westerns), or covered with oil derricks and sleazy oil barons (thanks Dallas). People forget that Texas is home to three of the ten largest cities in the US [Houston - 4, San Antonio - 7, and Dallas - 9]; the home state or adopted home state of many beloved, non-C&W entertainers [Patrick Swayze, Beyoncé, Jim Parsons, Hilary Duff, Renée Zellweger, Jennifer Garner, the Quaids (sorry), Jaime Foxx, Nora Jones, Erykah Badu, Angie Harmon, Morgan Fairchild, the Jonas Brothers (again, sorry), Meat Loaf, Matthew McConaughey, the Wilson brothers, the Allen sisters, Sandra Bullock (an adopted Texan), Ethan Hawke, Joan Crawford, Farrah Fawcett, Sissy Spacek, Aaron Spelling, and Forest Whitaker... to name a very, very small few].

People also forget that Texas is home to that Mecca of technology and innovation, NASA. "Houston, we have a problem" wasn't a reference to some guy with the last name Houston. Oh, and Dell computers. We're also home to the "hippiest" grocery store chain in the nation, Whole Paycheck Foods. Just sayin'...

Not everyone here speaks with a twang or accent. Not everyone likes country or rodeos (I do, but I digress...). Yeah, we have our hicks, but so does Massachusetts.

One caveat [tangent], though: I love the word "y'all" and think everyone should use it. It's gender-neutral and convenient. Please, though, spell it correctly. It's not "ya'll". You + All = Y'all. You wouldn't write "coul'dnt," would you?**Tangent Over**

There's also the political misconception about Texas. Just because it's a red state, don't assume everyone who lives here leans right (yes, this even applies to non-minorities and men). And don't assume every city here is red either.

Fun fact: Houston recently elected the first openly gay mayor in any city with a population over a million -- and she was a democrat running against another democrat, who happened to be a black man. Not exactly what you'd expect in a red state.

So I think I've covered the cultural and political misconceptions. Now there's the other big one -- the geographical misconception. I think a lot of people assume that all major cities in Texas are near each other. They're not. Not even close.

Most people conceptually get that Texas is a large state -- the second biggest; but that doesn't really translate into them comprehending just how big Texas really is.

I often get comments from people unfamiliar with Texas about how they could do something in Dallas and then "pop on over" to Houston. Or how it's good that I have a friend "so close" in Austin or San Antonio. Uh.... No.

Let me put this in perspective: the drive from Houston (in the east) to El Paso (in the west) is longer than the drive from Houston to Georgia and takes roughly the same amount of time as it would take me to drive from Houston to Missouri to see my in-laws.

[Editor's Note: Since this was originally published it has been pointed out that the mapquest estimate I got years ago - which calculated the trip as a day was very very wrong. Thanks, Valerie! And sorry everyone for the Texas-sized error The preceding paragraph has been now corrected for accuracy.]

There are 240 miles between Houston and Dallas. It's a 45-minute plane ride or four- to five-hour drive (depending on who's driving). There are 141 driving miles between Houston and Austin (25 minutes plane; 3 hours driving -- 4.5 if you take the ill-advised Onstar-selected route. Don't.). There are 275 driving miles between Houston and San Antonio (just a little longer than Dallas).

In most states, these distances would put you in a completely other state -- maybe even two. In Texas, an hour-long, highway-speed drive may not even get you out of your city's greater metro area.

As you can imagine, with great geographic distance comes great cultural differences. Please don't ever try to impress a Houstonian by talking about your love of the Cowboys; and correspondingly, no one from Dallas/Fort Worth wants to hear about what a great game Matt Schaub had.

That's the end of the Texas lesson for the day. I'm sure there will be more.

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Recently, my family made the trek from Houston to Austin for the one-year birthday party for the twins of one of my oldest friends. [aside: Texas geography lesson coming up]. I knew that Pop Culture Toddler wouldn't be the only biracial child there, because the G twins are also biracial. That meant there would be at least three biracial kids there. I knew the odds were that there would be at least a couple more, but I had no idea that we would be attending the unofficial Texas biracial baby convention.

From the second we walked in the door, we were surrounded by swirly toddlers. There were the two cuties at the craft table, who were undoubtedly part-black despite the fact that they were sitting with their white mother. There was the British couple in the corner (mom black, father white) with their gorgeous six month old daughter. There was the blonde "black" kid with the dreadlocks. There was the mother who appeared to be herself biracial or maybe Jewish (close call) with her two children, one of whom appeared to be Hispanic, the other of which appeared to be half-black (they were both, in fact, half-black). There was my friend's cousin, who I hadn't seen in over a decade, with her daughter who was undoubtedly half-white (confirmed after I met the hubby). It was amazing! And I swear more and more biracial kids popped up after our arrival. Even better, most of these kids were generally my daughter's age.

At one point, my friend checked on the hubby and I to see if we were having fun, and I confirmed that not only were we having a great time (well worth the three-and-a-half hour drive), but props to her on filling her house and backyard with so many mixed kids. Her response was something to the effect of, "Wild, right? It's like a little Swirly Baby Convention!" That was the perfect description.

I know that biracial families are not unusual these days. As I've previously blogged, even the media (PBS Kids in particular) is starting to catch on that families these days look a little different from what people may have seen 10 or 20 years ago. I know that my daughter is not even the only biracial child in her classroom. That all being said, I have seriously, never in my life, seen that many biracial couples or children in one place at one time, and I loved every minute of it.

My daughter isn't yet at the stage where she's aware of race, but she has learned her colors, and she is smart enough to observe differences in people's appearances. I know that when she says "Mommy, brown. Daddy, white. Caitie, white," she's merely reciting colors (and she hasn't yet learned "beige" or any other fancier color descriptions like "raw sienna"). I know that when she sees a picture of a darker Hispanic girl with curly hair, points to it and says her best friend's name, she's not being unintentionally racist; she really thinks it looks like her friend (who, incidentally, is also biracial/multicultural). At some point, these observations will turn into awareness of differences. While I hope this "some point" is later rather than sooner, I'm glad that it seems there will be enough kids around her age with family makeups like her own that it won't seem so unusual to her. Too bad almost all of these particular kids live so far away.

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So yesterday I was browsing my favorite news source, The Week, and ran across this cute video of Katy Perry singing "Hot and Cold" with Elmo. I thought it was so cute, bubbly and fun that I emailed it to my husband and told him that our daughter was going to love it. I couldn't wait for the new season of Sesame Street to start next week.

Then less than four hours after I sent the link and my excited endorsement to my husband, the excrement hit the fan. Apparently, some parents were outraged (outraged!) at Katy's low cut top.

Honestly, I never noticed her top. All I saw was her running around trying to get Elmo to play dress-up with her. And I guarantee you, when my daughter watches the video (saved to my YouTube favorites -- assuming, of course, it hasn't been pulled down yet), she won't see what Katy is wearing, nor will she register it subliminally. ALL she will see is Elmo. That is all any kid will see.

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the least bit prudish. There are many instances in which I think American moms get their panties in a bunch when they just need to chill. I think we are raising a generation of sheltered pansies. That's just me. I know people disagree with me. That's fine. They're entitled.

I understand why Sesame Street pulled it. PBS is a public station that depends on donations for its survival. It needs to support of the Mini-Van Majority. I get it. I totally get it.

But I still don't get why the video bothered people in the first place. Well... Until I read a lot of comments and saw that many of the women who called and emailed to complain about Katy Perry's attire admitted they didn't even watch the video. Classic. Typical.

And don't even get me started on the hypocrisy of lambasting Katy Perry for her attire when none of these parents are complaining about the fact that Sesame Street is still running the segments with Kobi Bryant (rapist... allegedly) and Brenden Fraiser (wife beater... allegedly) and John Mayer (a-hole... Confirmed). Apparently, what's good for the goose is not good for the gander.

Whatever.

The interesting thing is, tonight I also found out that Sesame Street is doing a True Blood spoof this season. Since my FB query was too long for the status bar, I paste it here for your consideration:

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One of the few things I miss about living in NYC is having an H&M at my disposal. I am an H&M junkie -- at least I am when I'm in a city that actually has one. When Pop Culture Dad and I were dating, we went to Paris. Despite all the fabulous shopping at my disposal, what made me the most excited? Finding a ginormous H&M in the middle of the shopping district. When we got married in the fabulous Las Vegas, I actually put on the pre-wedding schedule I drew up for my family and attendants "Shopping at H&M." Yes. I'm that bad.

I have never understood why there is no H&M in Houston, the fourth largest city in the United States. In fact, of the ten largest cities in the United States, there is an H&M in every locationexcept the three Texas cities (4. Houston, 7. San Antonio, 9. Dallas). I really don't understand this, especially when you consider that St. Louis (#52) has not one, but three H&M stores. Seriously, they do -- St. Louis, Des Peres, and Chesterfield [it's all St. Louis metro area]. I can get my H&M fix when we visit Pop Culture Dad's parents, but that happens once maybe twice a year. That's really not enough to prevent my H&M withdrawal shakes.

Quite honestly, I am perplexed at their marketing model. "[W]e think Texas is a really important market, but...". For realz??? I'm sad. :(

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Kat Von D and Jesse James are disgusting. No one wants to see them making out. No one. No one even wants to think about them making out. So can you please explain to me why you have not one but two features today about them kissing? Seriously?! I hate you.

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Okay, maybe this isn't a fashion police issue. It's more like the story of someone who lacks basic fashion sense and plain common sense.

Pop Culture Dad is a loving husband and a caring father; but he, like many men, is clueless when it comes to basic, everyday things that normal, functioning adults should know to get through the day. This cluelessness often extends to the care of our daughter.

Pop Culture Toddler attends Montessori school during the day while PCD and I tend to our day jobs. We have an alternating schedule for picking her up in the evenings, but since PCD is the boss (at work, anyway) and needs to be at work often before PCT and I are even awake, and my job is generally über-flexible with arrival times, I am almost always the one who drops her off in the morning. In fact, in the 10 months she has attended this school, he has dropped her off a total of three times. I'm not complaining; this is just a fact.

The first time he dropped her off, PCD's cluelessness led him to overlook one minor detail: everyone needs to brush their hair in the morning, and this is especially important for little girls -- even more important for little girls with curly hair that tends to get tangled if it is not brushed or combed. Although PCD later tried to play it off (as he always does) as he didn't know how to do her hair, it was obvious from his initial reaction that it never occurred to him to do her hair at all. This is pretty much our actual phone conversation:

PCD: I got her to school okay! She was in a really good mood. I put her in the outfit you left hanging on her closet door. I assume that's why it was there?

Me: Yup! So what did you do with her hair?

PCD: Her hair?

Me: Yeah, her hair. Did you just brush it and leave it down, or did you attempt to do something with it?

[silence]

Me: Hello?

PCD: I just got her dressed and dropped her off at school....

Me: [sigh]

PCD: Well.... I don't know how to do all that fancy stuff with her hair! What am I supposed to do? You're going to have to teach me one weekend.

Me: Fancy? You mean a ponytail? You could have just brushed it, ya know...

Of course, it went on from there with PCD getting more defensive by the minute. Fortunately, that day, PCT's teachers took pity on her, and she came home well-coifed.

The second time he dropped her off, I believe it was brushing her teeth that he forgot. He remembered to brush his own, but seems to have forgotten that she has teeth, too -- not many, but she's got some.

They say the third time is the charm. Well, it was certainly something.

Yesterday, I had to be at the office early, which meant PCD had to take PCT to school. In order to prevent social embarrassment help him out, I took every necessary precaution: I picked out her outfit, down to the shoes; I put her shirt on, so that I could do her hair before I left; I gave her breakfast; I packed her school bag; and I told PCD not once but twice where to find the pants that matched her outfit (lying on the bed next to her shoes, in plain sight), so he wouldn't take liberties and pick something that clashed with her flowery purple shirt. I'd done everything. Or so I thought.

When I picked up Pop Culture Toddler from school yesterday, she was wearing the backup outfit I keep in her backpack. Naturally, I assumed she had a potty accident requiring a costume change. Usually, the school only changes her pants, but I figured her teacher didn't want her tie-dye backup pants to clash with her flowered shirt. Good call, teachers!

Later that night, when I looked in the backpack to fish out the soiled clothes, only the shirt was there. I made a mental note to ask them in the morning for her dirty panties and pants. When PCT and I went upstairs to go to bed, I noticed her purple pants I'd laid out that morning were still lying on the bed. "Great," I thought, "He went rogue and picked out his own outfit. Doesn't he know not many things in her closet match PCT's shirt?". So I went back downstairs. This was the exchange:

Me: Hey, honey? What pants did you send PCT to school in?

PCD: Pants? None. She was wearing that dress.

Me: [laughing] Nooooo. She had on a shirt. Remember, I told you to put her pants on after she went potty, and I put them on the bed for you?

PCD: What do you mean it wasn't a dress? It looked like a dress.

Me: Honey! It doesn't even cover her panties.

PCD: Yes it does! It totally looks like a dress.

Me: [pulling the shirt out of PCT's backpack and holding it up to her]. See? Goes to her waist.

PCD: Oh.... Well... [and then the random excuses started]

Yes, my darling, loving husband sent our adorable one-year old to school in just her shirt, panties and sandals.

Thankfully, the teachers at my daughter's school recognized this error and corrected it. Also, thankfully, they know that Mommy isn't the one who dropped her off half-dressed (nor am I the one who drops her off with bedhead or stinky breath). I think I'm going to be very generous with the teacher presents this year.

I'm cringing thinking about what's going to happen next weekend when I'm out of town and Pop Culture Dad has to play single parent for the weekend. I hope this week's embarrassment sticks with him long enough to turn him into Mrs. Doubtfire, at least temporarily.

It has given me a new perspective on life, though: no matter how horrible my day was, at least I have my pants.

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I’m not stupid. I know my days of being a young, hot, hip club bunny were long behind me well before I became a mom. I’m totally okay with that. People who have professional jobs and certain appearances to maintain generally should not be club bunnies – esp. not in their 30s or beyond. I am also okay with not being young. Age is what you make it. You can let the number define you, or you can define (and defy) the number. That all being said, I sure wouldn’t mind being hot and hip again.

There are constant reminders that I am no longer cool and cute. For one, I don’t get carded anymore and I no longer end up with freebies at stores or generally get a “pass".” The guys and gals who flirt with me – on the rare occasion anyone flirts with me anymore – tend to be my parents’ age or just otherwise unacceptable. Of course, I’m married, I don’t need anyone flirting with me; but it’s always nice to know you’ve still got it, KWIM? I don’t have it. Not anymore.

So I‘m not young, and I’m not hot, but I thought I had at least some semblance of cool. Apparently I don’t. I still listen to the radio, and I know what’s cool and current in music even though I don’t necessarily like it. [Sorry, totally don’t get the Bieber or Ke$ha thing]. I have been generally good about not expressing my old fuddy duddy opinions to the youngsters. And even though I’m no longer a club bunny, I guarantee you I can dance circles around most kids (and adults) these days [just too bad no one wants to see my butt shaking anymore].

I’m a gadget geek, so I keep up with all the latest technology. I don’t use phrases like “The Twitter.” Pop Culture Dad and I watch movies [though, usually on Netflix, because there’s generally nothing out that I like enough to pay a babysitter for]. I’m up on all the latest television. I am generally not a bad dresser, particularly since I make a good salary and can actually buy my own clothes – a luxury I did not have as a teen or early-20 something.

So given all of these things, I thought I hadn’t quite reached the stage where younger adults rolls their eyes and banish me to the “old” category. But this is how I know I’m old and uncool: Facebook.

I know, it shouldn’t bother me that my little cousin – who I used to babysit, the one who now babysits my own child, the one who once adored me more than anything and couldn’t wait to see me — rejected my friend request. But it does. Especially when I see her “mutual friends” list and it includes a whole host of other family members, some of whom are only a couple years younger than me. And, of course, it bothers me that her brother, who at one point had accepted my friend request deleted me [even though, quite honestly, I had his account blocked from my feed, cuz the kid posted annoying statuses 300 times a day].

I also know how uncool and old I am when I find myself highly annoyed by the statuses of the youngins who did friend me [you know… the ones who haven’t deleted me yet]. I am generally free-thinking and loose; but the older I get, the lower my tolerance gets. I get tired that some people under the age of 25 talk in “txt” speak. I’m sick of reading rap lyrics passed off as independent thoughts [even when I like the song]. I’m tired of hearing never-married chippies with too many kids at home, who are being raised by their parents rather than them anyway, bitch and moan about men not taking care of their kids [uh… you aren’t either!] or sobbing over the latest guy to dump them [um… how about focus on your kids first before you plan on making more]. Yup, I’m now that old lady on my cyber porch yelling at these kids to get off my lawn.
The other day, a high school friend marveled at the fact that my dad, who once shunned computers, had commented on my Facebook status, and then she wondered, “What are all these old people doing on Facebook?? Tell your parents to get off Facebook!”. It now occurs to me, however, we are those old people, too.

Apparently, aspects of Facebook are like the modeling industry: even though you’re not old, generally, you are too old for some things. It’s like the bouncer in Knocked Up said, “I didn’t mean you’re too old for this earth. You’re too old for this club.” I’m not saying I’m too old for Facebook (or that anyone is), but I guess I’m just too old to be “friends” with certain people.

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